Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Papua New Guinea and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Gang Green to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Evens. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Roy Ayers,
Circle Jerks,
Excepter,
Junior Murvin,
Sam Rivers,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gregory Isaacs,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
World's Most,
Lou Reed,
Tres Demented,
The Shadows of Knight,
John Foxx,
Sonny Sharrock,
Aaron Thompson,
Bauhaus,
the Fania All-Stars,
ABC,
Toni Rubio,
Half Japanese,
The Sonics,
Motorama,
Maleditus Sound,
Radio Birdman,
Von Mondo,
John Coltrane,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Au Pairs,
Brass Construction,
The Mojo Men,
Adolescents,
Deepchord,
T. Rex,
Liliput,
Bang On A Can,
Tommy Roe,
The Selecter,
Boz Scaggs,
CMW,
Bobby Sherman,
Andrew Hill,
Porter Ricks,
PIL,
D'Angelo,
Carl Craig,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Urselle,
Idris Muhammad,
MC5,
New Order,
The Misunderstood,
DNA,
The New Christs,
Gong,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tears for Fears,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.